Lilu's Book Read online

  Praise for Kerka’s Book

  “This sparkling combination of action and magic is bound to enchant.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Excellent.… The writing is refreshingly well done and weaves together the author’s knowledge of art, folklore, and botany to paint a magical world where readers’ senses are piqued by the likes of stone fairies, cave anemones, and a queen named Patchouli.”

  —SLJ

  “Great for girls who love fairies and magical worlds.”

  —KidzWorld.com

  Praise for Birdie’s Book

  “Bozarth’s tale is a beguiling mix of magic, adventure and eco-awareness, and her message of girl-power and positive change will resonate with tween readers.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “A fun, light read that ought to be a hit with girls who like adventure and magic.”

  —Books for Kids (blog)

  “Bozarth has taken the best aspects of various young adult genres and mixed them together in a fresh and optimistic way.”

  —Kidsreads.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by FGA Media Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Yearling and the jumping horse design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at

  www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Join the Fairy Godmother Academy!

  FairyGodmotherAcademy.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bozarth, Jan.

  Lilu’s book / Jan Bozarth. — 1st Yearling ed.

  p. cm. — (The Fairy Godmother Academy ; bk. 4)

  Summary: After waking to find herself in Aventurine—the place where girls train to become fairy godmothers—an African American twin sister who is afraid of discovering her own uniqueness embarks on her first mission to rescue a special bird’s egg before a devastating magical hurricane hits.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89336-0

  [1. Fairy godmothers—Fiction. 2. Fairies—Fiction. 3. Twins—Fiction. 4. Sisters—Fiction. 5. Magic—Fiction. 6. African Americans—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.B6974Li 2011

  [Fic]—dc22

  2011002717

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  For my twins, Evan and Dustin

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1. Twisting Somersault

  2. Secrets of the Shell

  3. Underwater Dreaming

  4. Following the Threads

  5. Through the Night Bloomers’ Cave

  6. The Ba-dum Boat

  7. A Face in the Trees

  8. The Trickster

  9. Inside the Castle

  10. Weaving Moonbeams

  11. The Eye of the Storm

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Sumi’s Book

  1

  Twisting Somersault

  My heart pounded in my ears as I climbed the ladder to the diving board, pulled myself up, and stood staring out at everything and nothing. Up there, it was like standing at the top of the world.

  Corny, right? But absolutely true.

  The sky was bone white. I felt as if I were close enough to touch it, and I could almost smell the lightning on that hot and humid July day. Electrified lightning bolts are not a diver’s friend. Still, being there calmed my nerves and gave me a sense of peace. The whole top-of-the-world thing, I meant that, honestly. Being on the three-meter springboard makes me feel like no one can touch me—like I’m magical or something.

  Diving does that to me, makes me all loopy and sentimental. My dad had gotten my sister and me interested in competitive swimming. We learned to swim long before preschool. By kindergarten we were competitive swimmers and expert snorkelers. Then when we were ten, he signed us up for a springboard diving program.

  That was the same year he and Mom split up.

  Block it out, Lilu!

  I was about to make my final dive at the junior dive competition in Charleston, South Carolina. No stray thoughts about how many crazy changes were happening to my family should break my focus. No time to worry about how Mom was taking us away from South Carolina to New York City to “start our new lives.”

  My heart was doing dives of its own. I reminded it to take it easy, thank you very much. A girl can’t exactly plan the most perfect, most amazing, most essential dive of her life when her heart is trying to send her straight to the emergency room.

  Did kids my age have heart attacks?

  Mom said watching so much television had turned me into a hypochondriac—you know, a person who always thinks she’s got some kind of disease. But everybody knew I would much rather watch animal shows than doctor shows—well, most of the time.

  See, my dad teaches marine biology at a local college, and my mom makes documentaries. They used to work together on her short films about endangered marine species. The whole family went everywhere together and did everything together.

  “You can do it, baby! Keep your focus!” It was my mom’s voice.

  Sweat trickled down my cheeks, and I felt my bronzed skin burn with embarrassment. Mom was like that, though. She’d give a shout-out to her “babies” no matter what. Didn’t she know I wasn’t a baby anymore?

  Still, I couldn’t quite clear my head. So much was at stake. This was the most important dive of my life!

  At least, I hoped so. I wanted this one dive to change all of our lives. Like in the hopelessly hokey teen movies where everything the characters have ever dreamt comes down to this one moment, this one terrific scene.

  That’s what I wanted: because for me, a perfect dive would fix my life.

  Maybe … maybe if I could become the junior champion today, then my twin sister, Tandy, would get excited about diving again. And if that crazy wish were granted, then maybe my even crazier wish for Mom to change her mind about moving could be granted, too.

  And maybe if we stay here and don’t move … Well, Mom and Dad might get back together! My craziest wish of all.

  A whistle shrieked. Muscles in my stomach tightened. Showtime.

  Desire. Dedication. Determination.

  Coach Regina drilled that into us. She got the idea to start a dive team for kids our age—I joined her team when I was ten; I’m thirteen now—after she began coaching at the high school. She said if kids learned the fundamentals of springboard diving earlier, they’d be better equipped for high school competition.

  Time for my final dive—a free dive. They’re the most difficult. Mine was a combination of a forward straight dive with a half twist. For young divers, it could either make you look like you were one step closer to the Olympics or headed for … dive failure.

  Trust me, no one wants dive failure. That’s just one step above belly flop. A belly flop might be funny in your aunt’s pool on the Fourth of July, but trust me, in front of strict-faced judges, your family, and coaches, belly flops rate right up there with pulled groin muscles!

  My heart somersaulted. I took two quick strides down the board. I scrubbed my toes against the bumpy surface of the springboard, feeling the familiar scratch from the same spot where I always stood to start my run.

  Desire. Dedication. Determination.

  “Go, Lilu!”

  A chorus of “shhh”s sprayed through the thick, chlorine-scented air. This time it was Tandy’s voice. I could sense the stern looks my twin was getting. People would worry that she’d interrupted my flow. But Tandy’s verbal push was just what I needed.

  Starting position … approach … takeoff … flight … entry.

  I pushed everything else from my mind. I’d found my favorite starting position and began my approach.

  Then my whole brain went to my knees. On the takeoff, it was all about the knees. Let them get lazy and you don’t get enough height. Don’t get enough height and—SPLASH!—dive over.

  My arms swung upward at the same time as my knees began to bend. With all my strength, my stomach muscles tightened to help pull my knees up as high as possible.

  I heard the familiar thunk of the board as I felt myself leave it in a small bounce to gather momentum. Now it was just me and the board and the smell of the air. No fans. No coaches. No parents or sisters or “new futures.”

  Just me and the board.

  As soon as my knees were perpendicular to my body, I pulled my toes back to the end of the board. My arms were straight. My fingertips stretched toward the sky. Hips and shoulders straight and facing forward.

  Then I was off the board and springing toward heaven.

  My arm came around to twist my straight body in the air.

  My toes stayed together as I twisted toward the water.

  At the last second, I brought my hands together over my head. My left hand clasped my right with palms flat, creating a pocket of air for my rip entry as I cleaved through the water into a silent world of aqua blue.
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  I broke the surface and took a breath. Everyone was on their feet.

  I did it! I did it!

  Quickly, I swam toward the side of the pool, my eyes searching the stands. Mom and Dad were sitting together. They’d been like that all day. But where was Tandy? She had been right there.

  “You did it, kiddo! Great job!” Coach Regina wrapped a towel around me and patted me enthusiastically on the back. “That was the best dive you’ve ever had!” She hugged me and I hugged her, and it was all great until I saw Tandy.

  She was out of the bleachers, standing near the tunnel, her cell phone pressed to her ear. What would make her call someone or even take a call when I was on the verge of making my most spectacular dive ever? I was working myself up when she turned, saw me staring, and raced over. Before I could even say a word, she blurted, “Cucimita!”

  I was still toweling myself, trying to catch my breath, the slight taste of chlorine in my mouth. I frowned. It must be something big—Tandy was using our secret language.

  “You have great news?” I asked.

  “I got the part, Lilu! I did it. When we move to New York, I’m going to be in my first real musical.”

  Cucimita! I thought. I just had the dive of my life. The dive that was supposed to change our lives. And instead of it being so amazing that Tandy would rejoin me on the dive team, she was off plotting her big acting career.

  By the time the judges’ scores were up and the winning ribbon was placed on my neck, sharp pellets of rain began to fall. Mom and Dad raced with us toward the parking lot. My ribbon felt wonderful. Then Dad had this “Way to go, baby girl” expression on his face that turned sad when he looked at Mom and saw she was already pulling away from him in the rain.

  I wanted to yell “Cut!” This scene wasn’t supposed to go this way. By now, the way I’d pictured it, we were supposed to be in a heartwarming group hug, vowing to try to put our family back together. The only thing that would be missing was a dog.

  The medal suddenly felt heavy. Dad hugged me good-bye, and then Mom, Tandy, and I scrambled soaking wet into Mom’s car. All the way home, in between calling and texting everyone she knew with her great news, Tandy sang. Watching me win the meet had done nothing to make my sister miss diving. She was already looking toward a future I wished was far, far away.

  “Lilu, wait!” yelled Tandy.

  But I was moving, sliding across the seat and out of the car before Mom really had a chance to stop.

  “Sorry,” I called over my shoulder, face down to keep the rain out of my eyes. To keep Tandy from seeing that I was upset when I shouldn’t be upset, which would mean explaining why I was upset, which I couldn’t because I didn’t fully understand it. “I’ve got a headache. I just need to lay down.”

  I heard one car door slam shut, then another. Buckets of rain poured over us. Only a few seconds had passed, and already I was soaked again.

  Tandy touched my elbow before we reached the front of the house. “Lilu? You okay?”

  Thunder crackled. Wind gusted from the ocean and drove the rain right into our faces. It was like staring into a blurred mirror. She was my reflection, only different.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “C’mon, girls! We’ve got to get out of this rain!”

  I flew up the stairs, filled with a dozen different emotions. How could I be so dense? I’d really made myself believe that winning a stupid medal in a stupid dive meet could change our stupid lives back to the way they used to be. Back when my twin sister and I did everything together and my mom and dad were one family. But here I was, sidestepping packing boxes on the stairs, racing to my bedroom, feeling like a total moron on what should have been the happiest day of my life.

  I won. That should be enough to make me happy. Right?

  I peeled off my wet clothes, pulled on dry shorts and a tank top, flopped on top of the covers, and immediately fell asleep.

  Hours later when I awakened, I was holding my medal between my fingers. The storm had stopped, and the air coming through the window was soft as a lullaby.

  “You feel up to some dinner?” Mom appeared in the doorway. She was using her quiet voice. That’s what Tan and I called it. Whenever either one of us had done something dumb or had had an “emotional” day we could count on Mom to go all Oprah on us.

  Funny how often the soft, let-me-be-your-best-friend voice worked, soothing us and helping us to feel like whatever had happened was not the end of the world. The light shone behind her from the hallway, and through the pale lavender curtains in my room I could see that the sky had gone completely dark.

  “Sure, Mom,” I said, rolling out of my bed. “I’ll be right down.” She disappeared behind the door. It took a few minutes for me to get my bearings. With all the daylight drained from the sky, purplish twilight covered every surface.

  I had to bypass several large cardboard boxes to make it from the stairs to the dining room. Packing was a pain in the butt. I never realized how many boxes it took to start a new life. Each cardboard box, neatly taped and labeled, contained bits and pieces of our lives. Like a puzzle being carefully taken apart.

  It was hard to believe that this time next month we’d be living in New York City. We’d spent our whole lives right here on the shore in South Carolina.

  Tandy loved the idea of living in the city. She wanted to be a star, and she joked about becoming a huge success on Broadway.

  Not me.

  I’d always believed my life was in the sea. I wanted to be a marine biologist like Dad or a marine animal veterinarian at an aquarium.

  Tandy couldn’t wait to move. I couldn’t think about moving without my insides getting all squishy. But to the world, we looked like the exact same person.

  In the dining room, Tandy was setting the table and singing again. She looked so happy. Of course I was happy for her. I just hated how much it made me feel like we were going in opposite directions. When the phone rang from the other side of the kitchen door, she looked up.

  We heard Mom giggle like a schoolgirl. “I’ll get it,” she sang out.

  Tandy and I exchanged looks. No doubt the caller ID had flashed on the tiny television screen in the kitchen. It was Him. Our future stepdad.

  Tandy nodded toward the kitchen. “The two of them are going to need supervision once we’re all living up there,” she said with a wink.

  I tried to answer with something clever. We gave our mom a playfully hard time about George, the guy she was marrying in the fall. But the truth was, he made her happy. They’d been keeping a long-distance relationship going for months. Now Mom finally had the chance to produce a children’s television show in New York for a national market. Something she’d been wanting to do for as long as I could remember.

  “She’ll be all right,” I said. How lame was that?

  “So, are you okay? Is your headache gone?” Tandy put a large salad bowl filled with greens, chunks of bright red tomato, and slivers of crisp yellow onion in the center of the table. Beside it, she placed a handmade basket filled with warm rolls. I remembered when Mom had made that basket.

  My insides clenched all over again.

  “What? What’s wrong?” asked Tandy.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I lied. I’m a terrible liar and don’t know why I try.

  “You’re a terrible liar, Lilu. I don’t know why you try. Spill it.” Tandy and I usually could tell what the other’s thinking—it’s a twin thing. She was born sixteen minutes and eleven seconds before me, though, so technically, that made her the older sister.

  I rolled my eyes and pretended she couldn’t push me around with her “I’m the oldest so you’d better do as I say” routine.

  But Tandy stepped closer and placed her hand on my wrist, touching the ocean-blue bracelet there. We’d braided enough bracelets for all the girls on our dive team. My dive team, since Tandy quit this year. Even though we could have made close to eighty bucks if we’d sold them all, we gave them to the team as gifts.

  Aurantiado.

  Tandy didn’t say the word aloud, but I felt it through her skin. I knew she was saying it, speaking our language. Aurantiado was based on the marginella aurantia shell found in Senegal—the shell we were studying when Mom told us about the divorce.